


you came over me like some holy rite

by Crazyloststar



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: 20-year-old noctis lucis caelum, 30-year-old prompto argentum, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M, Reunion Sex, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-27 23:40:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19800190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazyloststar/pseuds/Crazyloststar
Summary: Noctis is aware time moves differently in the Crystal. He knows time is slipping past him, but he has no sense of how long. Or of what is happening. Just that time is moving as Bahamut speaks to him.Sitting there in darkness - well…floating. He hears Bahamut and the prophecy and everything he is supposed to expect the moment he sets foot outside. He wonders how old he will finally be. Will he step out and be an old man, barely able to hold a sword?





	you came over me like some holy rite

**Author's Note:**

> saw a couple of prompts around this on the kinkmeme and decided to just jump in and go for it, it ended up more sad than I had anticipated? oops but I hope it still works. 
> 
> trying to do quick one-shots to just get my writing headspace going so just throwing this out here hope you enjoy. \o\
> 
> prompts are [here](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4113.html?thread=7286545#cmt7286545) and [here](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4747.html?thread=9200267#cmt9200267)

Noctis is aware time moves differently in the Crystal. He knows time is slipping past him, but he has no sense of how long. Or of what is happening. Just that time is moving as Bahamut speaks to him.

Sitting there in darkness - well…floating. He hears Bahamut and the prophecy and everything he is supposed to expect the moment he sets foot outside. He wonders how old he will finally be. Will he step out and be an old man, barely able to hold a sword?

Will his friends still be there?

Will...Prompto have moved on?

A part of Noctis hopes he has. He would never wish for any of them to put their lives on hold for him. They deserve better. Deserve more than he could ever give them.

This is just one of the many thoughts, churning in his mind, that plague him for who knows how long.

Until one day he's out.

He wakes up in Angelgard. There’s a note, and a boat. He takes it to the shore. When he looks at his hands, they still look young. But he has no time to do much else because there are daemons everywhere. He just knows his hands aren’t wrinkled and he can still wield a sword with ease.

And that it's so dark. And quiet.

He knows he’s at Galdin Quay but it’s not the same, and there are no cars. Just daemons everywhere, and him having been asleep for what? Decades?

He has no way of knowing yet.

He’s on the road when a truck comes by and he dares to wave it by. Surely given the state of things everyone would help a stranger.

The first voice he hears is a familiar, yet not, one in the form of Talcott, and it’s then he catches on to just how much time has passed.

When he looks in the mirror of the truck, he also realizes how much _he_ hasn’t changed.

Phone calls are made. Noctis is nervous. He’s terrified. He doesn’t know what he’s going to walk into. What their lives are like and here he is, waltzing back in asking them to stop everything to put their lives on the line for him. Again.

But he stays quiet as they drive, and eventually pull into Hammerhead, still familiar despite everything, and that tugs at Noctis’s heart more than a little.

His heart hammers harder when Talcott stops in the lot and Noctis sees them. All three of them. The headlights reflect on their forms so he can’t see much but he knows it’s them by their shadows; Gladio’s broad shoulders, Ignis’s posture, and Prompto...

He squints, because Prompto seems taller, though he knows that not exactly possible.

He steps out of the truck. He tries to play it cool. But the headlights turn off and he can see them there, as he thought. Gladio has longer hair, he looks more rugged. _Ten years_ , he thinks. It’s been ten years. Ignis is moving without a cane, a new set of shades covering more of his scar.

And Prompto. His jaw square, the last of whatever baby fat he had held onto gone. He’s even grown some facial hair, has some wrinkles at the corners of his eyes as he smiles.

Noctis’s heart catches in his throat when their eyes meet. He’s gorgeous, he’s everything he imagined, all those years he sat in the crystal thinking about what his friends were doing. But he can’t say anything – whatever they had before doesn’t matter now, not when the world is ending and he has no idea how much has changed since he vanished.

Noctis knows they are staring at him just as much as he is them – he looks like they last saw him, back at the keep when everything was crashing around them. He can read their faces. Gladio is whispering to Ignis, low, practiced, and he nods, mutters an ‘Interesting.’

“H-hey,” he finally wheezes out.

The dam breaks and they descend upon him. They’re hugging and laughing, they’re openly crying, and Noctis clings to them like the lifeline they were for him in the crystal.

“I'm sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispers against their shoulders. They don’t say anything in response, just hold him tighter, and that only makes him sob harder.

Ignis and Gladio take charge of making arrangements – calling into the forces in Insomnia, coordinating with Cor, because thank goodness he’s still kicking, getting the news out that the King has returned.

Noctis doesn’t feel like a king. He still feels like the kid who was unsure of the burden and weight he carried all those years ago. He still is that kid, really.

But he and Prompto are sitting in a small room that seems to be a place for hunters to rest. Prompto is making some tea, while Noctis sits on the bed, and he feels like an anxious teenager. Prompto’s shoulders seem broader in his tank top – drawing into the waist he remembers tentatively holding.

Gods, they had never even gotten to do more than kiss, and here he is now staring at this man’s back dreaming about touching him. And it's not the time to be thinking about that. He tries to blame his own hormones, his youth…

Prompto turns and leans against the counter facing him. Noctis can’t help but stare at the muscles in his forearms.

He swallows, Prompto shifts.

“You’re quiet.” He says, and Prompto just laughs a little.

“Sorry, used to silence these days. People don’t talk too much.”

The teapot sounds off and he turns to make a cup, then hands it to Noctis. Their fingers brush.

Noctis looks up at, and Prompto doesn’t move immediately. He stares down at Noctis.

“What?” He knows what. But he wants one of them to acknowledge it.

“It’s just. It’s like you're a ghost.” Prompto says softly before stepping away, like he’s afraid.

“It’s just me.” He suddenly doesn’t want to be holding his tea. He wants to be holding Prompto. His hands look calloused, his arms are littered with scars. He reaches over to set the cup down on a small table and wrings his hands together.

“You hunt these days?” He tries to steer the conversation away from him, to find out more about Prompto, what he’s done all this time.

“That’s all anyone does these days.” He crosses his arms almost self consciously, and Noctis sees a little bit of the Prompto from before.

He releases his hands and splays them out on his thighs. He’s still in the same clothes from that day, even. He can’t think about how that must be for them. “Prompto. Come here, please. I’m not glass.”

Another laugh, but Prompto listens and moves with a sigh. When he sits next to Noctis, he studies his friend, lets his hand move up Prompto’s arm, feels the muscles of his biceps, his shoulder. Traces a scar that slices from shoulder to collarbone. Prompto doesn't move. He just stares at Noctis.

He tries to ignore it, focused on memorizing his new version of Prompto. His best friend, once _almost_ lover.

“You know I’ve missed you, right?” Prompto whispers and Noctis still wonders if he thinks Noctis will vanish from sight if he gets spooked.

He swallows and rests his hand on top of Prompto’s. He lifts his gaze to finally stare back, study those blue eyes that always held a hint of mischief, but now they held more secrets and hurt. More stories that Noctis probably has no time to hear.

The thought makes him take a sharp breath. _Time_. They don’t have time.

The panic swells in his chest and it’s as if Prompto can see it manifest because he flips his hand over and lets his fingers slide between Noctis’s.

His eyes soft and he leans forward a touch closer. “Hey, I’m here. It’s okay.”

Noctis nods once, then again, and squeezes his hand. The panic subsides and he stares once more.

“You look good.” he manages to say. He’s rewarded with a big smile and gods he missed him. He missed Prompto so much his heart aches more and more, but he can’t even imagine what Prompto has gone through.

“You do too,”

“I haven’t changed,” he shrugs and Prompto tilts his head.

“Ya, but you were always hot.” Prompto chuckles and Noctis realizes he’s nervous, just a little, and that makes his heart speed up. Prompto would never be so bold before and it throws him off. “I mean, come on, it’s not like we didn’t act on anything back before.”

Noctis licks his lips. Prompto’s eyes follow the movement and track his face. He reaches up and slides calloused fingers through the bangs that have fallen over his eyes to try to move it behind his ear. Without any gel, they fall again over his face.

Noctis parts his lips, and it’s like somehow that’s all it takes, some sort of invitation that he didn’t mean but also doesn’t regret at all when that same hand cups his cheek and Prompto surges forward to kiss him hard.

Noctis falls back and takes Prompto with him and it’s all he can do to not instantly buck and beg. Prompto’s tongue is in his mouth and his goatee scratches his chin and he relishes it, fucking loves the sensation. It’s new and yet it’s still _Prompto_ , still the same boy he kissed ten years ago in the tent when Gladio and Ignis were off on a hunt.

Their hands are still intertwined, but Prompto’s other is in Noctis’s hair and tugs just a little. Noctis groans against his mouth and Prompto rolls his hips and he see stars. It’s too much and not enough all in one go.

“Noct,” Prompto whispers against his jaw when he pauses and Noctis takes the chance to suck in a deep breath. His other hand slides up Prompto’s back,.

“Ya?” his voice is rough, giving everything away, fuck.

“Listen, I don't know what’s going to happen.” He props himself up on his elbow and looks down at Noctis with so many different emotions it makes Noctis want to curl up against him and stay there forever.

“Prom-”

“Just. One night? Okay? You trust me?”

Noctis lets out a small laugh and squeezes their hands together. He presses fingers into Prompto’s hip. “I do, you know I do. But I’ve. I mean you know I’ve-” he feels like a bumbling idiot kid, never done more than kiss and light foreplay and here is Prompto speaking so casually, Prompto who’s probably had so much experience-

Prompto dips his head to rest his forehead on Noctis’s collarbone. He can tell Prompto is collecting himself.

“Fuck that shouldn't - ha,”

“Prompto?”

“It's like a dream, it seems unfair.” There's a sniffle, and Noctis is worried but then Prompto sits up and lifts their joined hands. He kisses Noctis’s wrist and he squirms at the sensation.

Noctis can’t find words, because the look Prompto is giving him just makes him burn. So instead he tugs at Prompto’s tank top.

“Eager there, buddy?” Prompto grins and moves his hips enough to make him arch his back.

“Shut up,” Noctis gasps and bucks and the friction is already just doing things to him. “Just. please, Prompto.”

Prompto groans.

* * *

Ten years had been so, so long.

And a small part of Prompto wishes he had waited. Wishes he had saved himself for the just in case, for the maybe, for the what if. But he hadn’t and he isn’t sure if he regrets it, at least he hadn’t until now.

But then that part of him that stuck in his chest for ten years evacuates his body as he has Noctis, _his_ Noctis, still looking twenty and young and quaking under the touch of his fingers like he had always imagined. It’s a cruel game, it really is, that the gods would have him return looking the same, but there’s a small part of Prompto loving it. Because he can pretend that the world isn’t a mess around them. Maybe.

It’s enough to make him almost hit the finish line right there before the race has even started.

Well it’s not a race but -

Fuck, focus, Prompto.

He asked Noctis to trust him, and oh he is, laid out under Prompto and letting him take control, letting Prompto take care of him.

He’s entering Noctis slowly, watching how his eyes squeeze tight and pausing, knowing just what it feels like, that first time, understanding the burn, the pain and pleasure rocking back and forth like a rickety boat. The highs great and the lows almost too much. He’s got that one hand still clinging onto Noct like a lifeline, their knuckles almost white from holding so tight. Noct’s heels dig into the small of his back and push and drag and fuck, Prompto dreamed of this for years, thought of this almost every night, and fuck everything else in the world right now.

Fuck it all.

He takes a deep breath as he enters Noct completely, shuddering at how tight he is and how good it feels. “Noct, you alright?”

Noct takes in a breath, nods.

“Can you...open your eyes?” He lowers himself to his elbow and the movement causes them both to moan as Prompto shifts just a little.

Noctis opens his eyes and Prompto wants to capture this moment. His eyes blue eyes almost swallowed up by dark pupils, his cheeks flushed, hair falling over his eyes, mouth hanging open.

“Fuck, dude...you’re so-” Prompto groans and moves his hips slowly. Noctis whines out but it’s not in pain, not by the way he moves his hips to meet Prompto or how he arches his back and his chin tilts.

Prompto lowers himself more so he can kiss up that jawline he’s dreamed about. He licks the sweat, sucks on the skin of his throat, and moves slowly to set an easy rhythm or he won’t last long at all.

He won't as it is probably but he’s gotta make an effort at least.

Being with Noct is nothing like any other experience he’s ever had in his life. Ever. It may be fucking cruel or fucked up or ironic or whatever to say but his body was built for Noct. He is who he is meant to be with. Full stop.

“Prom,” Noctis stutters and Prompto brushes their cheeks together before rolling hips and making eye contact.

“Ya?”

“K-kiss me?”

Fuck, Prompto was going to never be with anyone again after this, was he. If he survived, this was it. Never ever. Would anyone look at him like that, sound like this. Feel like this? There’s no way.

He kisses Noct with everything he has to give, mouth open and tongue delving and tugging at lips and he picks up his rhythm. Their kiss becomes more just breathing each other’s air, each of them muttering soft words, names, things he can’t even understand but it doesn’t matter.

Prompto slides his hand between them and grips Noctis and tugs on his hard cock and then he’s gone, the wave crashing as he comes and tightens his whole body around Prompto. Noct screams out and Prompto doesn’t care at all if anyone hears. Could care a fucking less as he comes too, following Noct, Like he always did, like he always would, chasing his pleasure and slamming into Noct to get the last bit of friction until the sensitivity becomes too much.

He slows and wants to just lay there, but first he pulls away and winces when Noct hisses at the feeling. He disposes the condom, thank goodness he still had some, they were in short supply, and slides back up Noct’s body draped across the bed. He pulls a cover up over them both.

He worries Noct will regret it all. Worries he’ll think this was the worst way to spend what may be his last hours.

But Noct curls up against him, head under his chin and arms around his waist to pull him as close as possible. Any closer they would fuse as one.

Prompto wishes more than anything that were possible.

But he’ll follow Noctis, wherever he can. However far he can go.

“Noct?” He whispers. He kisses Noctis on the temple and lets his lips rest there.

Noct’s breathing is even and slow. Prompto shuts his eyes tight and holds back the urge to laugh and scream and cry all at once.

If this is what he gets, he’ll fucking take it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> As always you can find me screaming and crying about ffxv on [twitter](https://twitter.com/crazyloststar)


End file.
